


Mercy

by Bopdawoo



Series: Tales from Bionis [2]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Shulk Is Trying His Best, everyone in xenoblade is a deeply damaged individual, he's just all kinds of fucked up and shulk just wants to help, i think this counts as au or canon divergence or somethin idk, this is mainly zanza's fault, zanza is also deeply damaged and that's his fault too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bopdawoo/pseuds/Bopdawoo
Summary: Shulk has a conversation in a place that isn't there, with someone who shouldn't exist anymore. Serious major spoilers for Xenoblade Chronicles 1.
Series: Tales from Bionis [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777723
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Shulk has a conversation in a place that isn’t there, with someone who shouldn’t exist anymore. Serious major spoilers for Xenoblade Chronicles 1.
> 
> Characters: Shulk, Zanza  
> Rating: K+  
> Genre: hurt/comfort i guess  
> Wordcount: ~1400
> 
> no idea what this is. it just hit me that i wanted to see what would happen if shulk and zanza talked about how everything played out and then this happened

There’s a tiny space, between the here and there, between the then and the now, where Shulk finally finds him. He enters the space cautiously, surveys the featureless void and its one occupant, who stares him down in shock before his expression morphs to one of manic rage.

_“You.”_

Shulk blinks and says, “Hello.”

_“Hello?”_ Zanza snarls. _“That_ is how you greet your God, your _creator? ‘Hello’?”_

“That’s how I greet everyone,” Shulk replies earnestly. "Why does it matter?”

“I am not ‘everyone’,” the god hisses. “I _created_ everyone, I am _above_ everyone. Do not lump me in with those _microbes_.” Shulk flinches back just the slightest bit, but doesn’t respond. “Why are you here?” Zanza snaps, impatient.

“I was… curious, I guess,” Shulk admits. “Didn’t realize you were still here until Alvis told me.”

“You didn’t realize,” Zanza mumbles, and then demands, “ _Why_ are you _here_.”

Shulk sighs, and after a moment he says, “I have questions that only you can answer.”

“Then _ask,_ you insufferable pest.”

The harsh bite to his voice barely phases Shulk, and he sits as well as one can in a featureless void, pulling up his knees and hugging them loosely. "I want to know why you did the things you did. How you were okay with it all.”

“You want to know if I thought twice about doing what I wish with my own creations,” he says flatly, like it’s a pointless question.

“Your own creations who all have their own lives and thoughts and feelings,” Shulk clarifies.

Zanza grins derisively with a chuckle. "You fail to understand what it means to be a God.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Shulk mumbles, and his voice is cold.

“And yet you’re God of your new world,” the fallen god hisses. “Tell me how that’s working out for you.”

Shulk blinks. “I’m not a god.”

Zanza glares at him venomously. “The world cannot exist without a God, you fool.”

“Your world couldn’t,” Shulk responds, “But I rewrote the new one. I’m not a god because it doesn’t need one.”

Zanza stares at him, and Shulk would have thought him frozen if it weren’t for the sudden tremble in his hands. “...You _what._ ”

“I created a world with no need for gods.”

Zanza just stares at him for a few seconds, stricken speechless, and then he barks out a laugh with no humor in it. “You claim you created a world with no Gods, and yet _you created it_ that way. You _are_ a God.”

A flicker of anger tints Shulk’s expression, but just for a moment. "I’m a Homs,” he insists.

“You’re deluding yourself,” Zanza scoffs. “Your power didn’t just disappear because you _wanted_ it to, you still have it.”

Shulk looks away and chews on his lip. “I do,” he admits quietly. "But I’m not a god.”

Fury twists the fallen god’s face and he snaps, “It doesn’t work like that! You cannot still be mortal if you wield the power of a God!”

Shulk smiles ruefully. “There’s a difference between having the powers of a god, and actually _being_ a god. I don’t have to be a god if I never use the powers.”

Zanza’s snarl twitches. “You steal my powers, and you have the gall not to even _use them?_ ”

Shulk reels a little, blinking. “I didn’t steal your powers- or, I didn’t know I did, I just-”

“Why else would a mortal kill its creator God,” Zanza laughs, “if not to take that God’s place?”

“I killed you because you hurt the people I care about, and because you wouldn’t let your own creations live how they wished,” Shulk growls coldly. “That’s all there ever was to it.”

Zanza scoffs. “I find it hard to believe that. No mortal would just turn down a chance at Godhood.”

Shulk sighs, looking tired. He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks up. “You… created me in your image, right? I’m meant to be… you. _A_ you.”

“You were to be my perfect vessel. I gave you my intellect, my skills, my looks, m-”

“Your pain.”

Zanza looks up sharply, eyes burning.

“You gave me your pain. And your ideas, and your desires. I know you’re lonely, and you want friends. But I know you also view every other living thing like dirt to walk on, and I know _that’s_ because you made yourself a god and put yourself above everyone. All that power hurt you.”

“And how are _you_ any different?”

“Because I have friends. I never had the power to separate myself like that, and so I made friends. And _they_ gave me _their_ ideas and desires. _That’s_ why I'm different. You may have created me, but my friends shaped me.”

Zanza seethes. “You’re letting all my power go to waste because of your _friends_.”

“I don’t think it’s a waste,” Shulk counters, “I used them to create the new world with Alvis’ help, and now I’m just not using them anymore. I’m much better at being a mortal than being a god.”

Zanza spits, “You’re a _mockery_ , is what you are.”

“I can live with that,” Shulk shrugs. “But there’s another thing I’d like to know: Alvis says you were mortal too, once.”

This makes Zanza pause, and Shulk sees the briefest look of confusion flicker across his face before he quickly says, “I transcended my mortal form long ago. That part of me no longer exists.”

“You’re deluding yourself,” Shulk echoes with a grin. “I’m a Homs, but you were something different. Very similar, almost the same, but still different.” He leans forward a little, almost eagerly and with a sort of wonder in his eyes. “You were _human."_ The word is strange and unfamiliar in his mouth. "What were humans like?”

“Flawed,” the fallen god says. “Flawed, and weak, and I became so much more and _you_ , you _reduced me_.”

Shulk is quiet for a moment, and asks again, “What were the humans like?” and Zanza turns away, refusing to speak further. So Shulk continues, smiling gently. “Alvis told me a lot about them. Their history, their culture. It’s all so different from Homs, but at the same time we’re really quite similar.” He sighs, and his smile fades. “You and Alvis… you’re the last two remnants of the humans.”

Zanza looks back at him, with unmasked suspicion. “Why are you really here?”

Shulk purses his lips and takes a breath. “I want you to come back with me.”

“... _What._ ”

“I want you to come back with me and be a part of the world again,” Shulk says again. “Not above it, but _a part_ of it. Like everybody else. It’s been so long since you were human that you don’t even remember what it was like to live, do you?”

Zanza growls, “Shut up.”

“You need help. Come here.”

“I do not want, nor need your help.”

Shulk’s expression changes to a deep, genuine sorrow and he says quietly, "You really do. You know it, and you keep denying it. Come here-”

“Do _not-!”_ Zanza jerks away as Shulk stands and moves closer, but he cuts himself off and stares, looking shaken to the core. “You… you’ve _aged_.”

Shulk just nods. “Of course I have, it’s been a couple years. But I told you, I’m much better at being a mortal than being a god.”

Fear blooms across Zanza’s face. “Stay away from me,” he snarls, but distance doesn’t matter much in a void.

“Well you’re not going to come willingly, and the other option is to keep withering away in this void,” Shulk points out, voice gentle. “Zanza, Klaus, whoever you’ve been and whoever you are, I want to help you. You’re suffering and I want to help you.”

Shulk tries to be gentle, he really does. Zanza still screams like a wounded animal at his touch. In anticipation of what comes next, or because this is the first physical contact he’s had with another being in what must be millennia now, Shulk has no clue.

One palm on his forehead and the other on his chest, and the fabric of reality warps around them.

“A long time ago, you were human,” Shulk says, and Zanza screams. “You will be human once more.”


End file.
